Snapped back into my thoughts, I touch my forehead. “There was a medical journal at the mansion library.” I sneak a glance at Hernandez. Was being the operative word. “It was conjecture.”

“Good conjecture,” she says. “The father’s death certificate was recovered to confirm he was the gene carrier for their disease. He was checked into a hospice facility at the time of his death.”

My limited research indicated that juvenile onset of the disease is almost always inherited from the father. I suspected that Devyn’s father likely passed away from complications not long after he left town. Possibly, so his children and wife wouldn’t have to watch him deteriorate.

“You profiled that if the gift of the Overman was rejected by society, then the perpetrator would devolve and take their own life or the victims’ lives.”

I immediately see the connection the agent is making to the torture chamber and internally curse. On my second revision of the profile, I concluded the hemlock would come into play as a means of elimination. Which, by all appearances, looks to be what happened to Bethany.

“That wasn’t a definitive conclusion at the time,” I say, attempting to deter her. “Considering the recent developments, the alchemist suspect fits that profile more reasonably than Childs. Closing up loose ends, eliminating any potential leaks that could expose and implicate them.”

“If that’s so, then Childs would logically be in danger, as she’s also a loose end,” Rana says, and the hairs along my body lift away. “But it’s more plausible they’re working together. Childs staged the scene yesterday. No matter who injected the hemlock, she’s an accomplice.”

Unless Devyn was trying to tell me something with the scene. I know it’s not rational and even biased, but I want to believe Devyn’s desire was to help these people, to offer an escape, even if a delusional one.

“I’m sending Keller and Locke your away to team up,” Rana says. “I want the crime scene analyzed in daylight before the storm can hamper any potential evidence.”

At the mention of Kallum, my heart rate quickens. “Agent Rana, did you receive my⁠—?”

“I got your notice, and I don’t accept it. Professor Locke is scheduled to depart this evening, and I can’t lose the both of you on this case.”

“Agent Rana⁠—”

“I know why you want to leave,” she cuts me off. “I understand you feel a connection with Childs—Devyn,” she amends. “And though I typically subscribe to the sound advice to never commiserate with the suspect…use it, Halen. Use your connection with Devyn to find her.”

Chest constricted, I can only nod, not fully appreciating what I’m agreeing to before she ends the call. All I can think about is what she said.

Devyn could be in danger.

Hernandez pockets his phone in the inseam of his jacket. “So you’re not leaving now.”

I expel a tense breath and look him in the eyes. As he was the one to help load my luggage in my rental, I couldn’t keep it from him. “I still am. I’ll check out the scene once more before you drop me off. But like I said before, if anything pops up that you need assistance⁠—”

“I’ll reach out to you,” he says with a wan smile. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right call. I have a bad feeling about this offender. Like Rana said, as we close in on them, it could get volatile.”

While we wait on the second half of our team to arrive, I conduct a more thorough examination of the victim’s body, looking for anything that I could have overlooked during my cursory evaluation.

Using the ME’s photos on the tablet to compare to the autopsied body, I study the figures drawn in animal blood on her skin. I recall most of the markings from Devyn’s circle in the cave as part of her ascension ritual. The only symbol that stands out is the philosopher’s stone. It’s the only symbol that appeared in the ravine, Devyn’s sacred space.

An image of the symbol carved into Alister’s skull flits across my vision, and I squeeze my eyes shut to force it away. Kallum has woven himself just as intricately into this case, and if I start pulling at the thread, I’ll be the one to unravel.

What are you trying to tell me, Devyn?

I glance up from the body. “Was Colter Childs ever identified among the remains?” I ask Dr. Forrester.

She presses her lips together and digs out her phone. After I provide my email, she sends the full report to my device.

“Thank you, but can you just tell me if his remains were recovered⁠—”

“The initial report on the vic’s remains was doctored,” she says, impatient. “Eleven of the victims were determined to be deceased prior to organ removal. Colter Childs was one of them.”

I again look at the body, unable to refer to her as a victim even in my thoughts. If Devyn gave this woman so much care and love upon her death, then what did she do with her brother’s remains? Where is his body?

I nod my thanks to Dr. Forrester, and she covers the body before sliding it into the locker.

The chill of the room settles deep into my bones as I imagine Devyn sitting in her ravine, her emotions a chaotic storm after losing her twin brother to the illness they shared. Her belief system being challenged, her optimistic delusion crumbling.

That was her moment of no return, the heartache and rage I felt there in that chasm. That’s where she engraved the philosopher’s stone into the clay wall as she slipped right over the edge.

But she didn’t jump off that cliff all by herself.

She had a push.

I expel the thought as soon as it surfaces. My hand curls into a tight fist as I try to breathe through the tight ache.

Agitated, I push through the swing door and crash into a solid wall of chest. I reflexively step back and am met with the fierce green and blue of Kallum’s eyes.

He uses his foot to catch the door before it swings in, an arresting smile easily crossing his face as his other hand cups my arm to hold me in place. “Just the sexy little criminologist I was looking for.”

A reactive flame licks my skin at the way his gaze brushes over me. “I’m wrapping up my final inspection of the scene before I leave.” Swiping my bangs out of my vision, I add, “Devyn could be in trouble.”

He cocks his head, the intensity of his gaze searching me. “That’s a given,” he says glibly.

“I mean danger.” I sink my teeth into the cushion of my lip as I try to block the doubt creeping in. “But even so, what if her actions were influenced?”

His features draw together in confusion.

“What if someone—” I edge closer to the hallway “—manipulated her to go to extreme measures? Are the consequences solely hers, then?”

He reaches up and grabs hold of the doorframe, effectively blocking my escape. “Like the alchemist,” he says, reasoning with infuriating logic.

“Yeah. I told Rana this person could be tying up loose ends, trying to remain hidden. She suspects that could put Devyn in danger. She’s too much on the feds’ radar. Killing her before she’s caught and can reveal anything incriminating…” I trail off, letting the implication linger in the chilly air between us. “A morally corrupt person could justify doing so, as she’s already terminal to begin with.”

“Hmm.” He makes a sound of thoughtful deliberation. “I doubt having the FBI and media invade his town was ever part of his plan. It’s all gotten very unruly.”

I study Kallum’s eyes—the eyes that swallow me, that I fell into from the first moment he put me in his sights. “Kallum, if there’s something you want to tell me, please. Do it now.”

He lowers a hand and clasps my cheek as his heated gaze bores into mine. “It is not enough to conquer, one must learn to seduce.”

Unease tightens my chest. His cryptic quotes have never felt so damning.

He pushes in too close, his next words dropped hot against my lips. “If you don’t want vague answers, don’t ask vague questions, Halen.”